


Per My Last Email- Moments from the Magnusquerade

by alliedwolves



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Brooding on a boat? Not when Simon's bored!, Cats (2019) mention, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frustrated venting about vampirism, Hair Braiding, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Nostalgia, Not!Sasha and polaroid, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedwolves/pseuds/alliedwolves
Summary: Like Drinking on the Job by Nevanna, this is a collection of moments from the Magnusquerade that might be expanded/I mean to expand on.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Elias Bouchard & Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Simon Fairchild & Peter Lukas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	1. Sick Leave (Elias and Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Centuries of spectacles leave their mark on Elias and he resents it.

Centuries, he’d been alive. Longer than even most vampires. And yet, here he was, laid up like some human invalid by an honest to goodness _migraine._ The constant pressure against his skull from his glasses, centuries on, combined with simple carelessness, had blossomed into a pain as irritatingly _mundane_ as it was intractable. 

Even standing up Peter, one of life’s little pleasures, had no savour in it. There wasn’t a long game he was playing, simply the clammy weight of a cold flannel, and hopping between the points of view of those within his institute. They, at least, were getting something _done._ He didn’t make a habit of it, but today, he let the unconscious knowledge of what their master wanted from them drive, but not compel, Tim and Martin to work that little bit harder, to fall into the flow of monotonous filing work under Jon’s direction more easily. Mindless bureaucracy was soothing to watch, and just as soothing was ensuring that even if he was not up to snuff, the efficiency of the institute as a whole was still uncompromised.

He wasn’t so far gone as to fail to notice Peter’s presence. His husband had kept the date after all, and the weight of Peter’s bulk beside him on the bed, the cool of him reinforcing the clammy cloth against his face with chill hands, it was nice. So nice, indeed, that Elias moved into them, snarled when they were pulled away.

“Testy little man,” Peter rumbled, nonetheless resuming his ministrations and reaching his arm around to cradle Elias’s head and scratch the little divots that had caused him the blasted pain in the first place.

“I cancelled our plans, Peter.” Elias refused to let this stupid ache let his standards slip. His voice was as crisp and curt as a starched collar. 

“And so I had room to make some new ones, Elias. Don’t worry.” Peter laughed. His fingertips pushed against the spot _just_ so, a shiver running down Elias’s spine as he relaxed, and the unclenching of his jaw, mercy of mercies, eased some of the pain in his head that little bit more. "Later, I know where we can find you blood with some pain medication in it." 

"You're insufferable." 

"You too." 


	2. Team Synergy (Elias and Jon, about Annabelle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running into Annabelle Cane's thrall in the Tube, Jon seeks out reassurance Elias is happy to provide.   
> (Takes place after NevillesGran's Annabelle Cane Networking Chapter found here https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229340/chapters/53632576 )

Jon hated that when he was rattled, this was where he came. Elias was sat in one of his many office chairs, comfortable with paperwork, and despite everything, Jon felt nothing so much as overwhelming relief and gratitude when his master glanced up, and set it aside, patting the arm of his chair to call Jon to his side. And so, Jon went, kneeling there, his head resting against Elias's knee in a way he couldn't remember not feeling _right._

He'd composed himself enough to have the story on his lips, but Elias reached into his mind anyway, ticking it off point for point, stroking Jon's mind as soothingly as he stroked his hair, gently taking out the tie to twine his fingers through the thick length of it. 

"You didn't feed on her?"

"No, of course not. No matter how much... " He'd wanted to, right there in the crowded station, on the top of the escalator. He'd have been able to wait, he was sure. Almost sure. She'd smelt so good, of freesias and deep, rich blood... 

"It was too public," he said, hating how flat it fell even on his own ears. Elias tugged at a knot in his hair with a frown. 

"Your self control, laudable as it is, is so often misplaced, Jon. She would not have minded, for one thing. Probably enthusiastically assented." The knot was stuck fast, and so Elias held him there with the comfort of his mind while he fetched a brush, humming quietly. "I suppose that we can only hope the Mother of Puppets won't take that as an insult."

Jon prickled with uneasiness, and Elias swatted his shoulder with the brush. "And, of course, that they don't come _knocking_ to ask you what's wrong with their gifts." 

Jon tried to clamp down on his rising panic, the tightness in his chest and throat despite the absurdity of it all. He didn't need to breathe, so why did it feel like he couldn't get enough air? The wide, guileless eyes of Annabelle's thrall seemed to be everywhere he looked. 

"She was so little herself..." Jon said, struggling to stay still as Elias started to braid his hair, to comb gently through his thoughts. "She even had Annabelle's inflection."

"The Web is powerful," Elias agreed, "but so are you."

"Not in the same way." Jon couldn't disagree, but still... "I can't imagine myself within the Web clan. Yet--" 

What if they'd taken him then, way back at 8 years old, potential barely beginning to flair up, and apparently visible to those like Elias? Would he care nearly so much about Martin, or Tim, or Melanie? Or would they be puppets to him. Like the woman on the tube, whose name she didn't remember and so Jon didn't know. 

"I think we're both very glad that they didn't," Elias answered his thoughts. 

"Yes..." Jon let himself be shaken out of that anxious path, leaning into Elias's knee and letting the soothing calm of his master, the certainty that the Web couldn't control him, not like that, sink in. 


	3. Holistic Unpacking (Daisy and Basira)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Basira talk, after the events of https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763356 Negotiation and office Politics by Turbulent_Muse

It had been a lot to take in. Daisy had taken her aside, after their confrontation with Elias, after discovering Basira was bound to the smug little freak, and had haltingly explained a lot of what it might mean, that she was a thrall, now. Basira took mental notes, ready to turn them physical when she had a moment, and an ungloved hand. 

The park was cold, the metal seat burning up into the meat of her calves, until Daisy scooped her up, and settled them both comfortably in each other's laps. The ducks, true to form, ignored them both. Daisy's legs jostled with frantic energy. 

"How long had you known I'm... you know."

Daisy's eyes reddened differently to Elias's, Basira noticed. He threw his glamour aside like an opera cape before a duel. Daisy chucked the illusion of humanity off like her bra at the end of a long day. It was kind of endearing, actually. Experimentally, she reached up and cupped Daisy's cheek, feeling the cool of it, and the lack of a pulse at her jaw. 

"I figured out you were killing monsters, first. Didn't take long to spot how you were getting away with it, what you needed to be to manage it. After that, well. I figured we're partners, and I could take care of it. If I needed to." 

Basira's hijab, and her dark skin, and the dim antique lights of the park ought to have been enough to prevent Daisy knowing how much she was blushing, at that. Instead, her red eyes softened as she leaned in, and cautiously placed a kiss on Basira's cheek. 

"I'm not a serial killer. Well. Not like that." 

Basira shut her eyes, returned the kiss. Daisy shivered like a tameless horse beneath her lips. 

"I know, Daisy." 

Daisy stopped shuddering, pulling Basira close. 

"I'm going to gut Bouchard. Not just for you, though, you're vital. Just. Going around making thralls left and right, murdering people in his fortress of an archive–Does it matter if Jon “meant to” kill Leitner, or if he was made to? The whole place is a nest of butcherbirds. Tear parts off you and stare at the carcass as it twitches.” Daisy was twitching herself, now, shoulders jerking with rage. 

"Right now, we have to wait. See what he's up to, what he even means to use us for. If he's as old as he seems to be, he has to have options more malleable than you, even with me stuck with him in my head." 

Daisy nodded, and they fell silent, occasionally bringing thoughts to the fore, deep in planning like on a thousand section 31 cases before this. 


	4. Corrective Measures (Tim and Martin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Martin meet outside Jon's office and chat about office concerns.  
> Basically, I made a timeline error and so want to move a planned chunk, but I liked this interaction.

Tim left Jon’s office with a huff of breath, nearly bumping into where Martin was waiting to take in tea. Guiltily, he wondered if he’d been overheard, pointing out the weirdness of Martin’s asking if his tongue was infested-looking. Maybe Jon wasn’t the only one being a bit sharp with all that was going on. 

“I don’t know if you heard that last bit, Martin, but Elias sent down more CO2 canisters for us,” Tim said. He’d said the right thing, if Martin’s visible shudder of relief was any indication.

“I’m really glad. Hearing Sasha got out of the way only because of one, it was a relief. That’s she’s okay, and that there’s a way to kill them? That isn’t, stepping on them and hoping they don’t just, eat through your shoe, you know.” Martin had a few plasters on his forearms, possibly where he’d had to dig the things out. Tim looked at them in concern. 

Martin followed his gaze, and found the mugs in his hands. “Oh! Oh, I made tea, and I thought I’d give you and Jon yours? Just a splash and half a sugar, right?” 

“Right.” Martin might not be the best at his job, but it was a puzzle as to how he got to be that way, given how quick his memory was for things like this. The Dunning Kruger Effect? Kissassing? Probably not. Martin had his faults, but he wasn’t a Heap of sodden grasping placation. 

“Thanks. You might have to wait on Jon’s though, he’s in a bit of a mood, and you  _ know  _ what he’s like about disrupted statements,” Tim cautioned as he walked off. He had a date with some used cassettes, coloured sticky notes and  _ corrections _ . 

Martin could hear the statement through the door. The offices weren’t exactly  _ soundproof,  _ since they’d never expected tape recorders to feature so heavily in archival work when this place had been built, Martin guessed. Tim would probably know more, with his interest in the architect who built the place, but Martin didn’t know. Didn’t care, to be honest. It was nice to hear Jon enjoying himself, theatrical with this statement as every single one before it. 

The tea he had could wait. 


	5. Pencilled dates and changes to itinerary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon Fairchild wants to know what Peter thinks of Cats (2019). Peter wants to brood. Guess what.

"Peter have you seen that Andrew-- stop screaming it's only me-- that Andrew Lloyd Webber film"

Peter had been brooding on the deck. There had been _albatross._ He liked albatross. Now there was Simon Fairchild, looming in his vision. Upside down and flighty as ever. 

"What?" Peter snarled. 

Simon chuckled. "That Andrew Lloyd Webber film. With the Eliot verse. I've swung by for your opinion on that _Cats_ adaptation." 

Peter put his head in his hands. Nonetheless, Simon continued. 

"-Hilariously empty and yet! Still vaguely and surrealistically fascist, as Eliot intended! Marvellous stuff. You should take Jonah, it's exactly his bag." 

"We're divorced, Simon."

Simon had the decency to at least float _right way up_ for his apology. "Well, what better way to reconcile than a lovely dinner and a show? It'll be in theatre at least 6 more weeks, they want to nominate it for an Oscar. If you're engaged before the end of the month, you can go _twice_!"

“Don’t you have some humans to throw off buildings? An heir to meddle with?”

“Yes, and I’m putting that off to have a heart to heart with my old friend Peter Lukas. Going soft in my old age, I’m sure.” Simon's smug grin was no less infuriating upside down. “Although _actually_ if you're _interested,_ Peter, I’m thinking of stranding a submarine empty of crew, save the bloodless first mate, around the Bermuda area again.” He laughed. “The message board chaps you’re so fond of will have a field day.”

That equidistant centre of ocean: remote from Mauritania, the British Virgin islands, soon to pass up further north to the almost centre of the North Atlantic…. And then further north, and east, back to Jonah. Peter gave a wry chuckle. Back to his own lifelong, lovelorn patch of homeish, lonely bliss. And Elias would probably spring to have the cinema to themselves, save whomever was working the register... He could almost smell the artificial butter and the coppery scent of blood as they shared the unfortunate clerk between them. 

He pulled himself back from his musings. " _Cats_ , was it? ...I'll let you know." 

"Splendid! I'll keep my diary ready for the wedding date." 


	6. Redundant Employees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry and Martin reminisce when Gerry finds a photo with some unfamiliar faces

The archives were pretty much how Gerry remembered them. There was an office where a workaholic had set themselves up, an empty desk with bad vibes, two desks to some extent used, and one that looked like it hadn’t been touched for months. 

The dust didn’t bother him much. There was a picture of Martin with two other people. Martin had a party hat hanging awkwardly around his ear, having been pushed off by the hug of a tall woman. She clung to his side, laughing, as another person’s arm snuck around to pull a man with a lopsided smile into frame. 

For a long moment, he looked at the photo. Carefully, he set it aside, and kept tidying. 

When Martin came in, he was humming. Gerry called him over to show him the photo. Martin’s smile disappeared quickly on seeing it. 

“She looks so different to how I remember her. She doesn’t- God, Gerry, I don’t think I’d have known it was Sasha, if that wasn’t Tim.” 

Gerry didn’t need this to make sense. Not just yet. Tears were leaking out the corner of his eyes, and so Gerry pulled him close, let Martin wrap around him, and ground himself in slow breaths. 

“When you’re ready, I’d love to hear about them, since they made you smile like that.” Gerry said, and Martin sobbed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Nevanna, with whom this was jammed: Might well be a thing to come back to but a sweet sad thought


End file.
